BAZ
I open the door with my usual dramatic flare. Snow knows I'm gay now, so there's no reason to tone it down now. I walk smoothly over to my bed and elegantly flop myself down across it. I wave my wand with a "close the door!" and the door shuts.
Snow doesn't seem to know how to take my antics. Is it because he knows I'm like this because I'm gay, and not evil? Am I not evil? I'm supposed to be evil. I'm a Grimm-Pitch. I'm the direct result of mixing two of the Old Families' bloodlines. Not that there's much of a future for that mixture after me, given that I'm undead and gay. Unless Dylan would be willing to have my children. That just might work. Maybe Father will be less displeased with my queerness if Dylan and I were to marry and have children. He'd most certainly prefer Dylan over Snow. Oddly enough. How bad do you have to be for him to prefer a gay, transgender American over you? I guess being the Mage's heir is bad enough.
Snow goes to sit on his bed. He bounces. Then he bounces again. Then two more times. He's about to do it again (vampire senses; I can feel his muscles in his legs and abdomen tighten in preparation) when I stop him.
"Snow, that's enough," I say. Honestly, the bloke must have some hyperactive disorder. Probably from all that magic eating away at his body all the time. Same reason why he's always hungry. His magic must be consuming him. Surely Bunce has already worked all that out herself as well.
It's mid-afternoon and sunlight is streaming in from the two open windows. I can smell the merwolves. I'm half-tempted to close them, but I should probably try being nice to Snow since he's doing me a favour by befriending Dylan for intel. Not that the befriending part would be hard. Dylan's a downright pleasant bloke. With gorgeous blue eyes that have a multitude of layers. And a contagious laugh. And such nice, soft hands. And only the world's greatest hugs. I don't hug many people outside of Daphne and the children, but none of their hugs can compare to Dylan's. He holds you like you're the only tangible thing left in the world. Like if he doesn't hold you tight enough, you'll disappear too.
Snow swallows. And there's that show that I can't stop myself from watching. Pros of being with Dylan instead of Snow? Literally everything would be easier for me. Cons? No Adam's apple shows. But that's okay.
I'm staring at Snow now. Part of me wants to shake him violently until he spills out everything he learned today about Dylan. Part of me is scared to know.
"I think he fancies you," Snow says.
"Really?" I ask. I'm not sure if I'm asking in disbelief or excitement.
"He said he likes tall, smart guys with accents and dark hair. Then he began drawing a picture of someone. He stopped right after the eyes, but he definitely drew your eyebrows." Snow's got his arms folded over his chest. There's a blush across his face and his head's turned to the side. I can hear his pulse. It's quicker than normal.
"Dylan draws?" I ask.
"Quite nicely, yes," Snow responds.
"And he was drawing me?" My voice cracks on the last word. Damn nerves. Dylan draws. And he was drawing me. I can't help the giddy feeling welling up inside of me. Dylan likes tall blokes with dark hair and accents. I'm a tall bloke with dark hair and an accent!
I'm off my bed in a heartbeat, jumping up and down.
"Snow!" I shout. "I'm his type!"
"Yeah, I know," Snow rolls his eyes. "I'm the one who found out for you."
"And I am so grateful that I might just skip the part where I have to kill you to earn my place amongst the Families," I laugh. I can't believe I'm here, in the presence of Simon bloody Snow, laughing about something that's not causing him a damning amount of pain.
"Baz," Snow says. I stop to look at him, my smile slipping away. "Don't hurt him, yeah?"